Absolute
by ofpeachesandmelody
Summary: Eli's secret threatens to tear him from Clare for good. He would rather her think the worst than know the truth. Funny thing about the truth, though? It always has a way of coming out in the end...
1. Prologue

**This story is based on the song "Absolute" by the Fray.**

**I don't own the song, Degrassi, Munro Chambers, or all the cupcakes and kangaroos in the world. **

**Enjoy!**

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_"Is this all we get to be absolute?"_

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"I don't really know where to start…" I began. My hands were folded together and my eyes remained on my lap. I squeezed my eyes tightly and rubbed my thumbs together. The skin on my hands had become rough, and uncomforting. I shook my head and a few strands of my lengthy black hair brushed against my eyelashes.

"Why don't you start from the beginning, then, Eli," Ms. Carroll said, glancing up from her clipboard, blue pen in hand.

She was a fairly stout woman, fresh out of grad school. I could tell that she hadn't been in the whole "therapy business" for very long. This was for two very telling reasons. First, she looked young. I wasn't the best at guessing ages, but I could tell she was younger than thirty. Second, she looked nice. Her outfit consisted of a black pencil skirt, with a black jacket on top. She also wore a light blue pinstriped blouse, and a matching bow on her head. Long story short, she was trying way too hard. I think her outfit was meant to calm me. She wasn't supposed to look threatening because she was professional and put together. Her outfit was supposed to show me that she was ready to help poor, twisted people such as myself.

Problem was, I couldn't be helped. Not after everything that had already happened. Not after what I did.

I shifted around in my seat, trying to find a comfortable position. Unfortunately, I had no such luck. Ms. Carroll continued to stare at me from across the room, tapping that goddamned blue pen against her clipboard and licking her dry lips.

"Eli, I can't help you if you don't want to be helped."

Jesus, she was condescending. I resented her already. I twisted one of my rings around my finger and continued with my silence. The funny thing was that I wanted help. I desperately craved for this woman to possess the ability to make everything better again. That power however, resided with one person and one person only. And that person was not speaking with me at the moment. How could I blame her? I had basically done everything in my power to make her hate me. I really was messed.

"Fine," I resigned with a smirk, "But you better get that pen of yours ready for one hell of a story."

Ms. Carroll gave me a small smile, pressed her pen to the page, and the words began to spill.


	2. Like Sparks Fly Upwards Innocent

**Glad you all liked the prologue! Chapter 1...total fluff, but necessary fluff.**

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**_"Yet man was born to trouble like sparks fly upwards innocent..."_**  
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Clare's eyes were easily the most beautiful things I had ever seen. Cliché, I know, that her eyes would be the first thing I talk about. If you knew her, though, you would understand that her eyes were like these tiny little portals to happiness. The bluest blue in the world could not out-blue her eyes. They were bright and beautiful. I could go on forever about how much I loved them. About how much I loved her.

I wasn't normally this cheesy. Clare brought out every 'Casablanca'-esque line in me, and I caught myself wanting to recite Walt Whitman to her. It was a little pathetic, to be honest. I could be the kid in the street fight one second, but bring Clare into the equation and I was about as threatening as a baby hamster.

She turned to me, head tilted, a curl in front of her face. I brushed it away and saw her smile. It was perfect, as usual, and a smile appeared on my face in reciprocation.

"You never answered my question," she said, raising her eyebrows at me.

To be honest, I didn't even realize she had asked me anything. I was too busy focusing on the sunlight in her hair, the flush of her cheeks, the curve of her hips…

"Uh…sorry. What was that…uh, question, again?" I asked blinking.

"Were you even listening, Eli?" She sounded annoyed. Great. It took all of three seconds for me to get her pissed off.

"I asked what you want to do when you get older," she repeated.

I thought about it for a second, but nothing really popped up. There was no one career I could picture myself settling into. I didn't really contemplate my future all that much. My dad was on the radio, but there was no way in hell I was going to follow in his footsteps. No fucking way.

"I don't know, Clare…what do you want to do?" I figured I'd change the subject. It was a whole lot easier to remain in the present than stress myself out with future plans. Unless they were future plans that involved a certain _virginal_ church girl...then I was all ears.

"That's not an answer!" She giggled and playfully smacked me on my shoulder. My gray dead hand tee provided no armor to protect me from the wrath of my beautiful girlfriend, and her punch left a light pink mark. Damn, she actually had a good arm…

"You know what I want to do right now, Clare?" I spoke softly as I inched my face closer to hers. Her pupils dilated and her eyelashes fluttered and her cheeks flushed. She was breath taking.

I was winning her over. I could just tell. Her resolve about me actually answering her question started to dissipate and all that was left was passion.

Pure and innocent, she exhaled, "What?"

"This," I whispered before softly pressing my lips against hers. Her hands found their way to my head and she played with my hair as a placed my hands on those hips that had teased me so much before.

Kissing Clare was like kissing crystal. The brightest, most wonderful thing in the world. All the visuals that surrounded us were multiplied and everything else disappeared into the white light. It was blinding, in fact. Everything became irrelevant except for her and I. We were all that needed to exist. I let her light surround me, and any sort of darkness that seemed to constantly and consistently hang over me flickered and burned out.

XXX

"She sounds great, Eli," Ms. Carroll said as she finished a note and looked up at me.

"She is," I mumbled. She was the greatest thing in my life.

My black subsistence could only attract someone so perfectly light for so long, though. Someone so blinding was not meant to be wrapped up in the cynical, hateful, and threatening world of Elijah Goldsworthy. She was always too good for me, anyway.

I fidgeted with my ring again, trying to find some sort of a place of comfort in this sea of soreness.

That's the thing about reliving pain. You have to open yourself back up, stitch by stitch. There's no way to just, 'rip the bandage off,' as Adam had once instructed Clare. I had to do this excruciatingly slow, allowing each separate pain to settle into the greater wound that my soul had become.

"Do you want to continue?" Ms. Carroll asked carefully. She clearly knew that this story was headed for a fall from grace, and fast. I wouldn't be sitting here, in this room with carpets on the fucking walls, if something extremely messed-up hadn't happened to me.

The tips of my fingers froze and began going numb as I began to remember what had happened after that. I placed them in my pockets and frowned. A short pause, and a few pen-taps later, I continued the epic of my absolute ruin in a voice slightly hoarser than before.

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